I would like to announce that this story has been written from an idea suggested and gifted to me by Mr. Xajow. He is a talented writer, a well-articulated, thoughtful man and Dominant. His blog contains a variety of topics, if you haven’t already please visit him at Liberate One. On a personal note I would like to sincerely thank Mr. Xajow for his ongoing support, mentorship and for being the one that initially drew my interest to wordpress and blogging.
Please note that this post contains Dominant and submissive themes that may be offensive to some readers and pleasurable for others. This piece is not particularly unsafe for work… yet…
Now, to the story…
The first time he asked me to kneel before him I thought it would be easy. After all, how often had a single look from him brought me to my knees? I remember the first time I felt this desire, before he began training me. Even then he probably saw my desire to submit, saw in my eyes the need to kneel. Since we had just met, it was too soon for me to openly submit to him, and yet, in a way, I did.
After all, these first times were meetings in public places. At the time we met I wasn’t anyone’s submissive. I was too shy for the clubs but I also knew that I didn’t want to just ‘scene’. I wanted to fully submit to a single Dominant. I wanted, needed to serve 24/7. I had tried lesser arrangements and the torture it stirred within me taught me that it was not my way. Nothing less than full commitment was enough to sate the need to serve that burned deep in my soul.
I met him by chance, or perhaps you might call it fate, at an art exhibition entitled ‘Fear and Beauty’. I was lost in an image, a black and white photograph, a nude of a woman in utter uninhibited submission.
She was posed as though she had been ordered to kneel knees spread shoulder width apart and ass resting on her ankles. Then however she had been asked to lean backwards so her upper body was exposed, her head resting lightly on the ground and her arms above her head. Her face was turned toward a low mirror. In the mirrors reflection her face was visible. Her eyes were filled with respect, love and awe as she looks up at her Dominant. Her only adornment is what I would describe as a day collar, a chunky metal chain of heavy links around her delicate neck.
Everything about her pose and facial expression spoke of her absolute, unrestrained submission, the freedom she felt and the sense that her Dominant was a man of integrity because of the deep trust and reverence reflected in her eyes.
I could not look away although I knew I had been blatantly staring at the piece for nearly an hour. Instinctively, I became aware that a man was slowly approaching me. He came to stand near enough behind me that his earthy masculine cologne entered my sensory awareness yet I still couldn’t tear my eyes from the image before me.
His presence made me acutely aware of the awkward way my feet were placed, that my lips were parted and my breath was erratic. Moistening my lips I subtly closed them, adjusting my weight I placed my high-heeled feet more elegantly and let out a sigh that I hoped was not audible.
When he spoke his voice was deep and strong, I felt it vibrate through me as he asked; “what is it about her that captivates you so?” My eyes closed and hands clenched at my side. The answer pounded in my mind but fear gripped me. I felt that my answer was the key that would unlock my deepest desires leaving me unbound, naked and terrified. I couldn’t answer because he was a stranger yet I wanted so desperately to speak the truth not a shallow lie.
He stepped a little closer towards me and spoke again in a deeper more private tone. “Breathe little one, then tell me what it is that captivates you so.”
This command weakened my knees and forced my lips to form the words I both longed and dreaded to utter: “Her submission is perfect, I wish to offer such a gift to one deserving.” The silence although momentary, roared in my ears. I had opened my eyes again and sucked in my breath feeling I had exposed myself in public to a stranger.
Again his deep commanding voice entered my body, “Such a beautiful gift little one, why does it frighten you so?”
I let his words rattle within my mind, he said ‘beautiful gift’. This statement gave me strength. “I fear that what I long for most will never be.” I heard him sigh, like speech and punctuation his breath spoke to me of a similar longing followed by a pause, a semi colon of waiting. I held completely still nearly forgetting to breathe waiting for the rest of his sentence.
“Turn and look at me little one before I ask you to join me for coffee.” He was giving me the indication that it was time to choose whether I was interested in his invitation to speak with him further. I tried to calm the butterfly flurry in my stomach as I turned to meet his gaze. He was taller than I, comfortably so, older than I, comfortably so, his eyes a rich hazel holding wisdom, strength, kindness, intrigue, and distinct, unquestionable Dominance. I bit my lip as I held his gaze, “Well little one, would you care to join me?”
This was the first time I felt the overwhelming urge to kneel before him.
Words errant satiety image Gillian Charters-Barnes Fine Art America